


Leather Apron: The Experiment

by orphan_account



Category: underage underage sci fi
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Beast - Freeform, Bestiality, Breeding, Breeding Pen, Castration, Child Abuse, Child Death, Children, Creampie, Doggy Style, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fingerfucking, Force Bondage, Forced, Forced Pregnancy, Genital Torture, Huge Dick, Implied Child Death, Impregnation, Interspecies Relationship(s), Loss of Virginity, Lube, Macabre, Master/Slave, Non-Consensual Violence, Other, Painful Sex, Pedophilia, Penis In Vagina Sex, Rape Fantasy, Rape/Non-con Elements, Science Experiments, Science Fiction, Sexual Slavery, Sexual Violence, Slavery, Twisted, Ultra Hardcore, Underage - Freeform, Underage Rape/Non-con, Underage Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Violence, Violent Sex, Virginity Kink, Young, Zoo, child forced to fuck animal, forced underage breeding, fucked to death, impaled by cock, infant castration, internal creampie, sex with animal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:34:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23355523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: For years, the elite among the human race have sacrificed their own kind, in the way of both human flesh and milk, to the alien "Others."After many years of consuming humans, the aliens decide it is time to spice up the menu. So they hire Leather Apron to create a human/alien bovine hybrid. But, as it turns out, this requires a bull ready to mate and a human girl who is in season. And, after much thought it, Leather Apron believes he has found the perfect candidate in young subject 823.Story contains dark themes such as infant castration, child/animal sex, forced underage impregnation and implied child death. Please read tags.
Relationships: Master/slave - Relationship, child/beast
Comments: 4
Kudos: 175





	Leather Apron: The Experiment

My father was not the man I aspired to be in life. Yes, he had risen to the top in his chosen fields of study. He had created a corporation from the ground up, bending the minds and wills of others to his own. When The Others took over our decayed, dying world, he had signed the treaty that saved us all. But in so doing had condemned mankind to a fate far worse than death. The world became a thing of paradise once more, but this time it was covered in facilities that butchered and bred the human race as if they were cattle. Cattle to be sold off to The Others, and lining the pockets of men such as my father. He should have been a happy man. A man who knew that his life had meant something. That none of his children would be slaughtered on the racks of the meat plants. None of his daughters would be raped over and over again by machines, their breasts sucked dry for their milk until they too were sent off to be cut up for their flesh.

My father killed himself at the age of 43. He left this world a miserable, broken man. A man who wanted to change the world back into what it used to be.

I am not my father.

I am a man of reason.

Most of my days are spent overseeing the breeding and milking facility, MAGNA 1. It was my first step away from the meat plant arena, having made a name for myself running the superior outpost, Los Mobos in what used to be New Mexico. When The Others decided they wanted some new fare for their table, my corporation decided to get into the genetics game, setting up a new facility next door to MAGNA 1. I called it Genoa, and my scientists set about groundbreaking research into combining humans with that of an alien bovine race favored by The Others for its milk and meat.

I was in the nursery of MAGNA 1, busy with the task of castrating the male products for their future slaughter in Los Mobos, when I received the call that there had been a breakthrough at Genoa and I was needed there right away. I didn’t not go at once, however, since castrations are a favorite part of my work. I am sure no other man in my position would be so hands on this way. But, honestly, there is a certain ugly beauty about taking the infant’s little balls in one hand, bringing the emasculator ever so closer to his testicles, imagining in the mind’s eye the man he would never grow up to be. Stunning. I still recall the first pair I ever lopped off. What a cathartic experience that had been. And every time after, I always find myself in need of a cigarette after the castrated youths are loaded up their tiny crates and sent off to their cruel fate.

When I arrived back at Genoa, I was greeted by a large group of babbling scientists, each trying to elicit my favor by being the first to tell me the good news. It turned out, it was possible to manipulate the human egg so that it would accept the alien bovine’s semen. The problem was that the bovine’s cocks were equipped with sharp spine-like barbs on the sides, which would only release semen once they dug into an actual living vagina. Oh, they had tried all manner of trickery, from cloned human genitals to female bovine ones, but somehow the alien bastards knew they were not boning the real thing, and so would only release a non fertile spew of cum.

“That’s an easy fix. Use a living human product for mating. We have plenty at our disposal,” I told them with a shrug. 

The scientists all looked at me with horrified expressions, as if I had just suggested pushing their beloved mother’s from Genoa's tallest observation deck. “But, sir,” one of them said, a shudder going through his painfully thin frame. “The internal damage from the spines would be incredibly damaging to the internal organs. She would most likely die soon after.”

Again, I shrugged. Fucking scientists. Their endless hand wringing and appeals to my better nature reminded me too much of my father. “I’ll send over my most promising young breeder. You take out every damn egg she has from those fucking tubes. Then squirt em up in her womb and let the beast have a good go at her. Stand back and let nature take its course, then, once we know all the eggs have been fertilized, rush in and rip em out. Send what’s left of the product to Los Mobos. I don’t want any good meat wasted.”

I left them with their mouths hanging open, but I knew they would be running around like chickens with their heads cut off to do my bidding soon enough.

And, some day, they would all die with expressions of sorrow and torment on their faces. Just like my father.

************************************************************************************************************

I spent the night reviewing the charts containing the life histories of the female products who were going to be coming into their first breeding season tomorrow. There was a lot of information to consider in choosing the appropriate candidate. Things like the history of milk production and duration in the line, age of first menstruation in the mother and grandmother, history of vigor in the father’s line. After all, the female chosen would be the maternal half of a new bloodline, and it was of the utmost importance to make sure that things were done right on the outset.

After much studying and quite a few stress induced migraines, I decided the product to be used at Genoa would be subject 823. Gazing at the picture in the file, I found myself looking at a tiny sprite with long blond hair and piercing blue eyes. A beauty. But that was not why I chose her. What made 823 unusual was that her mother and grandmother, and even going back further than that, had each come into breeding season a full year sooner than the other products. So they were cranking out litters at twelve when the others would not make me profit until thirteen. This was a genetic trait I was eager to have in my human/bovine line. The 823 line also had one other desirable feature, the ability of the females to produce massive litters without one single miscarriage. 823’s great grandmother still carried of largest litter ever born, 16. A marvelous human achievement, both here and abroad.

By the time I got to Genoa the next morning, product 823 had already been transferred over from MAGNA 1, and had been placed into a makeshift breeding cage adjacent to the bovine holding paddock. I must go into some detail about the breeding cage, since there is more than one kind and many are unique to each facility. This particular breeding pen was the standard five by five, though it was unique in that it had padded sides, I was told because the bovines could be quite violent when they mated, and this would protect the product from further injury. An idiotic safe guard, since she would most likely by dead by morning, but you can never expect book learned people to be intelligent. 

The other features of the metal box was the wide belt that came down from the ceiling, wrapping around the twelve year old girl’s stomach and keeping her from getting up or laying down. A metal clamp had also been placed around her neck, also to keep her from trying to interfere in the breeding process. It did not, however, stop the child from crying profusely and begging all who would listen to save her.

I wasn’t sure who was the more idiotic, her or the scientists. I decided it was most likely a tie.

There was an explosion of noise, a mingled combination of human shouting and animal growls and grunts, and I looked up to see that the door to the paddock had been opened, and the scientists were leading in one of the bovines. The creatures were hideous things, resembling a cross between bison and bull frogs. They had stinky, mangy black fur covering most of their bodies, which were more fatty than muscular. Long black horns curved away from their heads at such an extreme and ridiculous angle that handlers had to routinely trim them, or else the stupid bastards would itch their own asses with them so much, they’d get a nasty infection. They were huge, nasty, foul tempered creatures, and I was only too eager to cross them with humans, if nothing else but to hopefully create a more docile, easier to manage, hybrid.

The cage of the breeding pen was opened, but not before one of the scientists reached a gloved hand down to massage the bull’s shaft. The creature gave a loud snarl, rearing up onto his hind legs, causing the frightened mob of humans around him to pull tighter on the chains that held him. A second later, the shaft split open and a cock about the length of a human’s leg and about as big around as the average newborn, came out, hanging almost to the ground. It was a stunning member, as fascinating as it was hideous. I nodded to the men holding the beast. It was time to begin.

One of the men got down on his hands and knees beside the crying girl. He took out a long tube from his pocket, unscrewed the lid, then rubbed a thick, viscous substance all over her ass and labia. Then, ignoring the child’s continued screams, proceeded to rub the fluid deep into her pussy, working his fingers in and out until she was dripping with goo.

The scientists led the bovine forward until he was standing over the girl in the breeding pen. Then one of them knelt down, grabbing the head of the giant cock, guiding it to the girl’s lubed up hole. Feeling the heat of the human labia mixed with the scent of 823’s fertility, the bull reared forward, humping air, his cock going upward and resting on the girl’s back. She screamed again, trying to get away as the beast squirted a jet of warm precum all over her hair and back.

Two men grabbed the bull’s cock, together guiding it to the much desired hole. The bull jerked his hips a few times, decided what he was feeling was in fact mating material, and proceeded to give a mighty shove that almost pushed the girl right out of her harness. She screamed again. The scientists used more lube, this time on both the girl’s entrance and on the length of the beast’s cock. 

It was a long bit of waiting around and quite a lot of lube.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, the tip of the bull’s member sank into the girl’s wet cunt. As a new breeder, she was a virgin, so I imagine the sensation of the vaginal canal spreading open for a baby sized shape must have been much like some kind of reverse birth. Her whole body tensed up, mouth dropped open in a silent cry, eyes huge as the member went in a little more with each passing moment. I felt a rush of excitement go through me as the bull went wild over her, his hips crazily thrusting about with such vigor that the child, impaled on his cock, was slammed repeatedly into the padded wall. I knew that I was seeing the birth of a new species. A milestone in both alien and human reproduction. My name would be written in all the history books. Not unlike my father. Though my ending would be a far greater one than his.

I moved closer to the breeding pen. Close enough to see the bull’s eyes rolling around in his head, lost in the mindless ecstasy of breeding a fertile female. Froth dripped from his long snout, adding to the mess of human sweat and alien cum on 823 beneath him. Upon closer inspection, I noticed that the bull had released so much precum into the girl, that it was seeping out from around his massive cock, dripping all over the floor in a gooey, stinky mess. His balls, two low hanging sacks of veins and flesh, were contracting in and out as if they were taking breath. I knew from my research that, with each, contraction, he was sending another round of precum into his mate. 

Then, after one last, mighty thrust, the bovine suddenly went still.

823 let out a long, almost inhuman sounding wail. In all my years of selling off human milk and flesh, I have never heard such a sound leave a human throat. It chilled me to the bone. And yet, in some disturbing way, I also thought it was the most beautiful thing I had ever experienced. More moving then removing the chance at manhood. Better than seeing an unruly product get her brain punctured until she could no longer even speak. This was creation at its most dangerous. Bloody. Sublime. 

“The bull has released his spines into the female’s vagina,” someone said, from somewhere to my left. “At the base of the spines, there are multiple holes from which the semen will be emerging. Into the female’s reproductive tract. The bovine semen is very aggressive and fast moving. We are expecting fertilization to be immediate.”

I looked around at my men. Truth be told, I felt a deep sense of pride about what they had accomplished, but I would rather die than tell them such. Give scientists an inch, and the next thing you know they will be demanding all sorts of things. “Good. I want to know everything that happens from now until 823 is sent off to Los Mobos,” I tell them instead. “I want to know how many eggs were harvested for implantation in MAGNA 1 breeders. I want to know how we can keep the three month human gestation time. Everything. Get back to me with the results ASAP.”

I left the workers of Genoa to somehow get the dying girl off of the sexually satisfied bull’s cock. After all, that wasn’t my job.

I was a man of reason.


End file.
